A Lucky Man
by International08
Summary: Three months later. A sequel to "As For Now."
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: All Castle characters are the property of Andrew Marlowe and ABC.

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><p>Three months had passed since Richard Castle's world had exploded in shades of red, albeit temporarily. Three months since he had found out about the captain's betrayal and redemption. Three months since he had been given the distinctly painful honor of serving as a pallbearer at the man's funeral. Three months since his partner—his love—had been shot by a sniper before his very eyes.<p>

And though he wished with all his heart that Roy Montgomery was still safe and alive with his family, and though he would never wish harm on the beautiful Detective Kate Beckett, and though he wished he could take away the memory from his little girl of seeing a friend and guide gunned down in front of her, he knew he couldn't change anything. This wasn't one of his stories. He couldn't rewrite the ending if it didn't suit him.

He sometimes felt guilty though, because in so many ways, this ending suited him just fine. Oh, he hated that Kate had been grievously injured and was still hurting. He hated the pain that her friends and family-her father-had gone through in those miserable hours of waiting. He hated that the strong independent woman he'd fallen in love with had to rely on him for sometimes the simplest of things. But at the same time, he loved that she knew he'd be there, always. He loved that she knew he would cheer her up when she was upset and hold her when the pain got to be too much. He loved that she knew that he loved her—and that she had told him she loved him too.

He just wished this ending hadn't been so damn costly. He wished it hadn't taken pulling her away from her mentor as he sacrificed himself and tackling her to the ground a moment to late to stop a bullet for them to finally be on the same page. Was it worth it? Was it worth a man's life and nearly her own? No, he decided, without a moment's hesitation. Given the choice between Roy's life, Kate's health, and his own happiness, they would always win. But then, he pondered, he hadn't been given a choice, had he? He was dealt a hand, with no chance to trade the cards he didn't like. He'd just have to make the best of it.

Of course, it wasn't hard to see the sunny side of life when he had a caring (if a bit kooky) mother, an amazing daughter, and an extraordinary woman who all loved him, along with some of the best friends a man could ask for in Ryan, Esposito, and Lanie. Still, he had his days when the darkness overtook him and he sequestered himself in his office to think and mull over the past few months. Sometimes he wrote, little pieces that would never see an editor's red pen, just bits of prose to clear out his own head.

"Rick?" a voice broke him from his burdened thoughts.

He looked up from his laptop to see her leaning on the doorframe to his office, dressed in navy blue sweat pants and one of his t-shirts, hair falling into her eyes, looking adorably sleepy and rumpled.

"Hey," he said softly. "How was your nap?"

She padded over to him and he set the computer on the desktop, scooting his chair back so she had room to settle on his lap.

"Okay," she murmured, sitting down and leaning into his chest. "Hurts."

"I'm sorry," he whispered, raising his hand to stroke her hair and down her back. She had just gone back that week to being part time at the precinct, on desk duty, but still had physical therapy a couple of times a week. Those were the worst days, because even though they both knew that it would help her regain her strength in the long run, she always came home exhausted and aching.

They knew from experience that there was little they could do to ease the pain. Massage helped a little, and he was certain that he'd be rubbing her sore muscles later. But for now, she just needed his strength and warmth, and he was happy to provide both.

"Sorry I fell asleep on you," she mumbled.

"S'okay," he answered quietly. "Not like we haven't seen that one before. Though I know how you love Cary Grant."

"Mmm," she hummed, and he felt her smile against his neck. "So suave and debonair."

He tilted his head back to take in her teasing smirk.

"I thought you preferred your men a little more rugged."

"Nope," she said, with a slight quirk of one eyebrow. "Not really."

He put on a wounded look, and she chuckled, lifting a hand to rest it over his heart. He tangled his fingers with hers on his chest and pulled them to his lips, placing a sweet kiss on her palm.

"However do you put up with me?" he asked.

She sighed and squeezed his fingers.

"You're just my cross to bear, I guess."

He let out a laugh and saw the twinkle in her eyes as it rumbled through her.

"Hungry?" he asked, and she nodded. "What do you feel like?"

"Something warm and high-calorie."

"Comfort food?"

She nodded. "Something with cheese."

"Macaroni?" he offered, but she shook her head.

"Pizza?"

She considered it for a moment, but then shook her head again.

"No, but Italian sounds good."

"Do you want me to cook?"

She burrowed deeper into his warmth, and he took that as a sign that he wasn't allowed to get up yet. He dug his phone out of his pocket and opened a saved page for Pepe Rosso To Go, his favorite of the Italian places near the loft. He quickly placed an order and slipped the phone back into his pocket, wrapping his arms tighter around his beautiful detective and closing his own eyes for a brief repose.

He would never get tired of this, and though he longed for the days when she would be healthy and back at full strength once again, he hoped desperately that Kate realized she would always have a home in his arms.

He heard her mumble something into his skin.

"Hmm?" he asked, opening his eyes, and she moved her head a little so he could make out her words.

"Whatcha thinkin'?"

"How much I love having you here," he whispered honestly.

"Mmm," her acknowledgement vibrated into his neck. "Love bein' here."

She was beautiful and strong, a warrior woman whose fire had drawn him like a moth to a flame. But he treasured these moments, these precious unguarded moments when she let herself relax into him and when he, for once, had the privilege of being her rock and her protector.

"You gonna order something?" she asked sleepily.

"Already did. There's an app for that," he answered with a chuckle. "Well, a website actually."

She purred her contentment, and he dropped a hand from her shoulder to her belly, rubbing gently, laughing when her stomach growled in response.

"Good thing, too, sounds like."

"I think something's alive in there," she said, drawing another chuckle from him.

"We'll just have to feed it and keep it happy so it doesn't gnaw its way out."

He felt her laugh a little, and her soft exhale tickled his skin. He shivered, and she pressed a gentle kiss against his neck.

"Cold?" she asked, and he shook his head.

"No, you?"

"Uh-uh. Nice and toasty."

"Good," he whispered, tightening his arms around her the slightest bit. "Rest a little more until the food gets here."

"'Kay. Love you."

They had exchanged the words more than a few times in the past three months, but his heart still did a little flip every time. He tilted his head a bit to kiss her chastely, lingering for the briefest of moments.

"Love you too."

She nuzzled into the hollow of his throat, her breath warming the skin exposed by the vee neck of his t-shirt. He closed his eyes again and leaned back against the soft leather of his office chair. He knew the dark thoughts would come back to him, that he would have the occasional nightmare. But not tonight. Right now, right here, he had everything he needed.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: All Castle characters are the property of Andrew Marlowe and ABC.

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><p>Half an hour later, the doorbell rang, startling the two of them out of their dozing. Kate groaned and began to unwrap herself from around him, but he just hooked an arm under her knees and slowly stood, carrying her into the living room and setting her gently on the sofa.<p>

The first time he'd tried that, she'd nearly twisted his ear off, but by now, she grudgingly allowed him his "caveman-ness" as she had termed it. He'd politely pointed out that if he were really a caveman, he'd be dragging her by the hair, and she'd threatened to shoot him. Par for the course, he thought, and laughed as he made his way to the door, pulling out his wallet along the way.

He checked the peephole to confirm that it was, in fact, their food delivery, and then opened the door, paying the delivery boy and including a good tip.

"Where's Alexis?" Kate called from the other room, but before he had a chance to answer, the redhead in question came down the stairs, yawning.

"Right here," she said. "Doorbell woke me up. Ooh, Pepo's!"

She hugged her father as he dropped a kiss on the top of her head. He followed her into the kitchen, where she was pulling down napkins, plates and utensils. The food came with paper plates and plastic utensils, but they had discovered long ago that it was greasy and solid enough that real plates and real forks and knives were better.

"Dining or living room?" she asked, reappearing next to him where he was unpacking the bags onto the table.

"Living room, I think," he answered. "Got you the penne with ricotta and tomato basil sauce. That okay?"

"Perfect," she answered as she reached for one of the containers and emptied it onto a plate. "Is this Kate's?"

"Yup," he said. "Eggplant Parmigiana. And I've got the lasagna."

She doled out the breadsticks as he put a little salad on each plate. She grabbed a tray for him to set everything on and then headed back to the kitchen for drinks while he carried the food into the living room.

He found Kate exactly where he'd left her, sprawled out on the sofa, her eyes closed. But he could tell by her breathing that she wasn't asleep. Her nose twitched as he set the tray down on the coffee table in front of her, and a smile blossomed on her lips.

"Thanks, Rick," she said as she slowly opened her eyes. He just grinned at her.

He grabbed a couple cushions that she wasn't using and set them on the floor next to the coffee table.

"What are you doing?" she asked, lifting an eyebrow.

"You look comfy," he answered simply. "I don't want to make you move. The offspring and I can sit on the floor."

She smiled at his kind gesture, but waved it off.

"Nah, I'll get a stomachache if I eat lying down."

She sat up and patted the spot next to her.

"C'mere."

He picked up the cushions and deposited them on the sofa again before plopping down on one side, leaving Kate's other side open for Alexis.

The girl came in then, carefully carrying three glasses of water. Though she was permitted the occasional cup of coffee or glass of wine, Kate's doctor had warned her that her intake of either should be moderate, so Castle and Alexis, in a show of solidarity, had been mostly abstaining as well, sticking to water or juice or milk.

Alexis set the glasses in from of the three plates and settled in next to the Detective.

"Talking or watching something?" she asked as she reached for her plate.

Rick glanced at Kate for her preference.

"We could finish watching 'To Catch a Thief.' I kinda fell asleep on your dad earlier."

"Sounds good to me," Alexis confirmed.

Rick reached behind him for the remote to get the movie going again while his girls chatted. Alexis told Kate about her day, hanging out with Ashley and then studying with Paige before coming home and sacking out for a couple hours.

"You're not normally one for an afternoon nap," the detective observed.

"Yeah, I was up late," Alexis answered. "I'm reading Crime and Punishment for my summer reading list."

"Got into it and couldn't put it down?" her father asked.

"No, got into and got creeped out," she said, giving a little shiver. "This is why I don't read your books before bed, Dad."

"Ahh, couldn't sleep."

Castle gave the girl a sympathetic nod and Kate wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

"I remember the first time I read it. I took a Russian lit class and it was on our required reading list for the course. The first part freaked me out a bit too."

"And then she decided to become a detective," Castle inserted. Kate rolled her eyes at him.

"But it gets better," she said. "The book, I mean, not murder. Murder never gets easier to deal with."

Alexis leaned into Kate's arm.

"Thanks, Kate."

She squeezed the girl a little.

"Anytime," she said and grinned at Alexis. "Just don't ever read it in Russian. It's even creepier."

With that, the slight tension of his daughter's fear was broken, and he smiled at the detective over the top of the girl's head.

"Alright," he announced. "Now let's eat this delicious food I slaved over and enjoy the dashing John Robie's adventures on the French Riviera."

Both of his girls rolled their eyes at him this time, but they all tucked in and before long were engrossed in the movie.

A little while later, he saw that Kate had put her plate down on the table, and was nodding into the air. He wrapped an arm around her and eased her back onto his shoulder, smiling when Alexis looked over at the two of them. She stood silently, and put the plates and glasses back on the tray, and picking it up to take it all back to the kitchen. He gently stopped her with a hand to her hip before she walked away, and she turned back to him.

"Thank you, pumpkin," he whispered. "You have no idea how much I appreciate you."

She smiled, and leaned over to drop a kiss on his forehead while he reached up to caress her cheek.

"Love you, Dad."

"Love you too, sweetie."

He turned back to look down at Kate as his daughter left the room. He knew she would be transferring food into plastic containers that they could reheat the next day, and he was struck with gratitude for a teenager who was as kind and responsible as his. She had never begrudged him his time with Kate while she healed. Instead, she had joined them as often as she could, watching movies, playing board games, or just hanging out. She seemed to know instinctively when they needed to be alone and when they needed her there with them, her vivacious attitude and sweet spirit a balm to both their souls.

Kate shifted against him and mumbled something in her slumber. He was comfortable here, cuddled up with her, but he knew her muscles would cry out even more if they stayed this way for too long. So he once again scooped her into his arms, cradling her head against his chest.

She often slept in the guest room, and he respected her need for privacy. But on physical therapy days, she always seemed to want to stay with him. He made his way back through the office and into his dim bedroom, pulling back the covers and setting her gently on the bed. He stepped away then to take off his jeans and socks, leaving the boxers and vee neck shirt in place.

After tossing the dirty clothes into the hamper, he turned back to the bed to find her propped up on an elbow and watching him.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: All Castle characters are the property of Andrew Marlowe and ABC.

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>"Hey," he whispered, smiling at her.<p>"Have you ever even seen the end of 'To Catch a Thief?'"<p>

She shook her head at the gentle ribbing.

"I can't help it if your company puts me to sleep."

He pursed his lips in pretended offense and came to sit next to her on the edge of the bed.

"How are you feeling? Aside from tired, I mean?"

"Okay, just achy."

He nodded sympathetically.

"Anything specific?"

She hesitated a moment, and he could tell by the thoughtful look in her eyes that she was mentally cataloging her various aches and pains.

"Lower back, mostly on the left side. Calves. Arms are the worst. They had me doing pushups today."

Though she was healing well, and the extra therapy and experimental treatments he had paid for had considerably shortened her recovery time, she wasn't nearly back to full strength yet. It would be a while until she was chasing down suspects again or sparring in the precinct gym. For now, it was just a good thing that she could get up and go to work in the mornings. He was glad it was Friday night and she didn't have to be at work in the morning.

"Can I help?" he asked quietly, and she nodded, watching as he went to the nightstand and pulled out a bottle of massage oil with a woody, flowery scent. It was soft and sweet, a soothing fragrance that calmed them both and helped her sleep. He set the bottle into the warmer next to the alarm clock.

"You wanna stay in the sweatpants?" he asked, and she shook her head.

"Boxers, then?"

"Yeah."

He retrieved a clean pair from his dresser and brought them over to her. He turned her on her back, and tugged on the leg of the sweats, watching her for signs of resistance. But none came. He pulled them off, chucked them over to the hamper, and lifted the boxers over her long, slim legs and purple cotton panties.

"Help me with my bra?" she requested timidly as she sat up, and he knew she must be hurting. Of the many intimacies they'd shared, that one was somehow crossing a line, and she usually did it herself, or if desperate, called for Alexis or Martha.

"Sure," he said softly, sliding his hands behind her under the back of the t-shirt and unhooking the clasps. He carefully maneuvered her arms out of the straps and drew it away, tossing the flesh-colored garment on top of her pants.

"Shirt on or off?" he asked.

"Off is probably easier," she answered, and he turned her body to face away from him before lifting the brown fabric over her head, setting it on the other side of the bed for later retrieval.

He placed one hand on her left bicep, using the other to drape her hair around the other side and pressed his lips to the uncovered juncture of her neck and shoulder.

"Lay down," he commanded, pushing softly, and she complied.

He reached for the now warm bottle of oil and poured a little into his open palm. When he had set the bottle back into the warmer, he rubbed his hands together briefly and then dropped them to her shoulders.

He began with broad, smooth strokes, meant to calm and sooth, and he watched while the lines in her face started to soften as she relaxed.

Gradually his touch became firmer on the areas she'd told him were bothering her. He eased his fingers into the low muscles of her back, the ones that had been weakened most by the injury as she was unable to exercise them for long weeks. She let out a low moan when he ran his hands over one particularly painful knot in her calf, and he quietly shushed her as he worked it out.

When he had finished with her back and legs, her breathing was deep and even, and she seemed to have melted into the bed. He considered just letting her sleep, but when he started to move away, he heard her soft voice again.

"Arms, Rick?"

So he stood briefly, placing a knee on one side of her and swinging his other leg over to straddle her backside, keeping a small distance between their bodies.

"This okay?" he asked, and she gave him a quiet "mmhmm."

He leaned over her back, starting at her neck and moving across her shoulders.

She twitched suddenly, and he paused.

"Are you alright?"

"Shirt's tickling my back," she mumbled, and he looked down to see that his loose shirt indeed was hanging down and fluttering across her back when he moved.

"You want me to take it off?"

"Yeah."

He straightened up and pulled the shirt over his head, dropping it next to hers on the other side of the bed before leaning over her again. He moved her arms to circle around her head and began his work there.

He squeezed and kneaded her arms, feeling the tension leave the tight muscles. Little by little he moved down, until he reached her hands and placed his over hers. He threaded their fingers, squeezing her digits between his own with a rocking motion and then turning her hand to press his thumb into the meat of her palm and the abductor muscle below her own thumb.

As he finished up, he leaned his body all the way forward to kiss her hands, his bare chest pressing into her back. He began to raise his body but stopped when she groaned.

"Don' move. Warm."

He chuckled to himself.

"I don't want to crush you, sweetheart."

"S'okay," she murmured. "Jus' stay."

So he held himself there, his skin just flush to hers, for as long as he could before his arms began to shake from bearing most of his weight.

"I'm sorry, Kate, but I've gotta move."

He felt her nod, and he rolled toward the other side of the bed, landing on his back. She, in turn, rolled onto his arm until she was laying on her side and facing away from him.

"You want your shirt?" he whispered, and she shook her head.

"Just covers."

He reached for the dimmer remote on the nightstand, and hit the button to darken the room. Then he used his foot to lift the covers until he could snag them with his free hand, dragging the sheet and blanket up over the two of them.

He already had his left hand under her side and curled up to rest on her belly, but as soon as the covers were up, she reached for the other hand to wrap him around her like a cloak, angling his right arm between her breasts and settling his hand just over her heart.

She wasn't this clingy often, and days like this usually meant she needed comforting more than usual, but he considered it a gift to be the one she trusted when she was feeling this way. He pushed his right knee until it was sandwiched between her legs and then he nuzzled his face into her hair, pressing a kiss under her ear.

"Sleep well, beautiful."

She tightened her grip on his arm ever so slightly, and he heard a slurred "You too, baby" before her breathing evened out.

He lay there for a long time, taking in the feel of her skin against his, the friction and pull of every inhale and exhale, her soft warmth and the tiniest bit of scratch against his legs that told him she might not have shaved in a few days.

She had confessed to him, a few weeks ago, that she felt safe in his arms, and he had promised that she would always be welcome there.

They had yet to make love. She was still healing, and he didn't want to cause her unnecessary pain. They had slept together often. Over the course of lazy mornings and nights when she couldn't sleep and needed a distraction, he had lovingly touched nearly every inch of her body and she had caressed his as well. But there was an unspoken line that they didn't cross, and he refused to push until he knew she was ready.

But now, having her here in his arms, feeling her heart beat strong and steady under his palm, he was certain that even if they never progressed beyond the intimacy of this moment, he would be happy.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: All Castle characters are the property of Andrew Marlowe and ABC.

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><p>Blearily, he blinked his eyes and wondered what had woken him. A glance at the alarm clock told him it was only a little after two. He slowly became aware that Kate was jerking in his arms. They had shifted in their sleep, one of them had kicked the covers down, and he was now on his back with her upper body draped over him. Her chest was sweat-slicked and uncomfortably stuck to his. She was grimacing, little lines creasing the bit of her forehead that he could see in the moonlight shining in through the window.<p>

"Kate," he said gently, bringing a hand to her cheek.

But she didn't wake. She had the occasional nightmare, even when she was with him, but this was the first time that his calling her name hadn't brought her out of it.

"Kate," he tried again, and this time got a response.

Her hand flew to his wrist, grasping it with vise-like strength as she pulled it away from her and cried out a single phrase: "Castle, let me go!"

He recoiled as if burned, their skin drawing apart with a soft pop. He retreated from underneath her to the far edge of the bed, surprised and hurt. The sudden movement jarred her enough that she woke with a start, and he could tell she was disoriented.

"Rick?" she asked, looking toward where he sat watching her, his shoulders trembling a little.

He met her eyes and saw concern flash through them.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah," he answered roughly. "Are you?"

"I'm fine. What happened?"

"You-you had a nightmare, I think."

"Why are you all the way over there? Was it that bad?"

He cast her a baleful look and hesitated before answering.

"You pulled my hand away from you and told me to let you go," he whispered and watched for her reaction.

Her brows knitted and she reached out for him, catching his fingertips where they rested on the sheet.

"I'm not sure what I was dreaming," she said softly, running her thumb over his knuckles and tugging on his hand to bring him closer. "But I didn't mean you."

He struggled with his next words. Her waking self was obviously okay with his presence. Hell, she was half-naked in his bed and either hadn't yet realized it or just didn't care. But some part of her subconscious hadn't wanted him to be touching her.

"You said my name," he choked out, feeling the beginning of moisture in his eyes. "You said, 'Castle, let me go!'"

Her eyes widened in surprise and he was horrified to see them filling with tears. He wanted to comfort her but felt like he was rooted to the spot.

"I am so sorry, baby," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

Her words and tone unfroze him and he scooted back to the middle of the bed, pulling up the covers and gathering her into his arms.

"Hey, no," he murmured, wiping away the tears that had begun to trickle down her cheeks. "It's okay, sweetheart."

"It's not okay," she wept into his chest. "God, Rick, I'm so sorry."

"You were asleep, Kate," he gently rationalized to her. "You couldn't help it."

He held her tightly, and she clung to him, her nose pressed into his shoulder. Finally she took a shuddering breath, lifting her head to meet his worried gaze.

"I love you, Rick Castle," she said quietly and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. "I don't want you to let me go."

He closed his eyes in relief for a quick moment before opening them again and leaning his forehead against hers.

"I love you too, Kate," he returned. "But some part of you must feel like I'm holding too tight, like I'm smothering you or something."

She shook her head vehemently.

"No, Rick."

"But..." he began before she cut him off.

"It was a dream, a nightmare, that's all."

She paused and lifted a hand to smooth across his forehead before dropping it to cup his cheek tenderly.

"I wouldn't have made it these past few months if it hadn't been for you," she said, using her thumb to wipe away the single drop that had leaked from his right eye.

"You saved my life," she continued. "I wouldn't even be here if you hadn't dragged me out of-"

"What?" he asked when she stopped talking. "What's wrong?"

"I think I was having a nightmare about the hangar," she whispered, and recognition dawned on her face. "That's the only time I can think of when I wanted you to let me go and you wouldn't."

He looked at her in anguish.

"I couldn't, Kate, I just couldn't," he forced out. "I couldn't bear the thought of losing you, of watching them kill you. I'm so sorry."

He heard the note of defeat in his own voice along with the pleading for her to understand.

She slid her hand up over his cheek and into his soft hair, lifting up to kiss away the tears that had multiplied on his cheeks.

"No, Rick," she whispered. "I don't want you to be sorry. You saved me, you saved me from myself. I wasn't thinking clearly, and I don't even want to think about what that would have done to my dad."

"It would have killed him," he affirmed and she nodded, and he spoke again, so quietly that he knew she could barely hear him. "It would have killed me too."

She wrapped her arms more tightly around him, resting her chin on his bare shoulder.

"Thank you," she whispered, and he shivered at her breath on his ear. "Thank you for knowing me better than I know myself. Thank you for putting your life on the line to save mine."

"I can't lose you, Kate," he sighed out, his voice shaking. "I just can't."

She pulled back to look him in the eyes.

"I can't make any promises, Rick," she said soberly. "I can't promise that there won't come a day when I don't make it home to you."

He closed his eyes, willing his active imagination not to create the scene in his head. She smoothed her hand over his cheek and he opened his eyes again to find her watching him solemnly, emerald eyes bright with unshed tears.

"I don't even want to think about that, but it's a very real possibility," she said, and her voice sounded lower and a little raspier than normal. "But I promise not to be reckless, not the way I have been in the past."

He nodded and pressed his lips briefly to hers in acknowledgment of her vow.

She let him linger for a moment before she pulled back to look at him once again.

"I know that's not enough," she said, searching his face. "You want everything and always, but that's as much as I can give you."

He crushed her to his chest and held her there for a few seconds, marveling at her heartbeat, strong and steady against him. Then he gently rolled them over until he was hovering over her, propped up on his elbows, her legs spread to make room for him.

"If I lost you," he began, pushing her hair back from her forehead. "I would never recover. But I knew that was a risk worth taking when I fell in love with you."

He lifted both hands to cup her cheeks.

"If there's one thing I've learned from shadowing you, it's that life is too damn short and unpredictable. All we can do is make the most of the time we have."

He paused and pressed his lips to hers once more, relishing the feel of their softness. He stroked his thumbs across her cheeks and spoke again, his voice husky.

"I fully intend for our always to last until we're old and gray and living in a home where the nurses call you 'Dearie' and bring me soft foods so I don't have to put in my teeth."

She let out a quiet chuckle that was music to his ears and he smiled down at her before he became serious again.

"I will do everything in my power to make sure we get to that point," he promised. "But as long as I have your heart, Katherine Beckett, I'll be happy, and whether we have days or years or decades together, I'll consider myself a lucky man."

She reached for him then, tangling one hand in his hair, and pulled him down, invading him with a passion he hadn't known existed. Her teeth rasped over his bottom lip and her tongue met his own, firm, yet supple, gentle, yet demanding.

He felt her other hand digging into his back, compelling him downward to meet her skin, flattening her soft breasts against his chest. One leg hooked around his knee to draw him closer, as close as they could be without sharing the one connection they hadn't yet experienced together.

Finally, she released him, panting as she brought her small hands to his face, her palms cradling his cheeks while her long fingers stretched back to caress the skin right below his ears.

"You must be a lucky man, then, Mr. Castle, because you have my heart, now and forever."

She drew him down once more, and he took the opportunity to press a small kiss to her mouth, following it with more to her cheeks, her forehead, her closed eyes, and finally the tip of her nose, causing a sweet smile to quirk her lips upward in enjoyment of his ministrations.

She opened her eyes then, and he was pleased to see the joy in their viridian depths.

"I think I must be a lucky woman too," she said with a smile.

He nodded.

"You have my heart, Kate," he whispered. "No matter what happens, you will always have my heart."

Then he lowered his mouth to hers, and it wasn't until the orange-pink of dawn came streaming through the window that they decided they could probably do with a few more hours of sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: All Castle characters are the property of Andrew Marlowe and ABC.

* * *

><p>When he awoke again, it was to Kate's soft fingertips tracing patterns on his shoulder blade. He had ended up on his stomach, and when he opened his eyes, she was there, propped up on a pillow, haloed in the mid-morning light, sheet pulled up under her arms, and softly smiling at him.<p>

"Hey beautiful," he scratched out, his lips parting in a wide grin.

"Hey yourself," she answered him, halting her drawing on his shoulder to brush the hair out of his eyes.

He reached up to catch her hand before she withdrew it, brushing his lips against her knuckles.

"How are you feeling?" he asked quietly.

She smiled at him again and squeezed his hand.

"Good," she said. "Tired, a little sore, but really good."

"Sore how?" he questioned with concern.

She rolled her eyes at him.

"Not that kind of sore," she said with a laugh. "Just the usual after-therapy kind of sore. Don't worry, you didn't break me."

He relaxed then and pulled her to him for a tender kiss followed by a strong hug.

"I love you," he whispered into her ear, and her arms tightened around him.

"Love you too," she returned. "So much, Rick."

He pulled back, stroking her unruly curls, and just looked at her for a few seconds. She was perfect, he thought, her tired eyes sparkling, face a little flushed under his intense gaze, but smiling.

Finally, she leaned over him, dropping the sheet as she did, and he groaned at the way she pressed against his chest.

"Good grief, woman, do you know what you do to me?"

A chuckle vibrated against him and he savored the feeling.

"I've got a pretty good idea," she said drolly, patting his belly as she drew back, t-shirt in hand. She lifted it up and over her head, laughing at his little sound of protest.

"Hey, I was enjoying the view!" he exclaimed, lifting up on an elbow to glare at her.

"I'm sure you were," she smirked at him. "But I'm hungry, and I'm not about to go out to the kitchen like that. Especially with Alexis and possibly your mother around."

He conceded defeat, but gently swatted her bare rear as she sat on the edge of the bed searching for the rest of her clothes. She turned back and stuck her tongue out at him. He read the back of her shirt-well, one of his that she'd stolen-and laughed.

"I think you accomplished your goal," he said, giving her an impish grin.

"What do you mean?" she asked, narrowing her eyes at him.

He pointed out the words on the shirt, and she pulled up the back and craned her neck to see them, blushing when she'd finished reading.

"Oh, I'd forgotten what the back of this one said."

"Well, I always knew you had a good aim," he intoned, grabbing her hand to drag her back for a heated kiss.

"So do you," she responded, turning a deeper shade of red when she realized exactly what she'd said. She pushed gently on his chest. "No more misbehaving this morning though. I'm hungry. Make me some pancakes."

"Yes, officer," he teased and grabbed his own shirt before rolling out of bed and sauntering off to the bathroom. "Be there in just a minute."

He turned back just as he reached the door to give her a sweet smile that she returned before she went back to getting dressed.

When he exited the bathroom, she was gone, but his bedroom door was still open, and he could hear the chatter of his daughter coming from the kitchen.

There they were, the two most important women in his life, talking and laughing as they pulled out the ingredients for breakfast. He stood in the office doorway watched for a moment as Kate began chopping some strawberries while Alexis mixed up the batter. His daughter must have said something funny, because Kate's laughter rang out, pure and clear, making his heart swell with affection.

Finally, he couldn't stand any longer to not be part of the action.

"Good morning, Daughter," he called out before snagging her into a hug.

"Good morning, Father," she replied, her arms still around him as she lifted up on her tiptoes to place a warm kiss on his cheek.

"So, pancakes?" he asked. "Plain or chocolate chip?"

"Just plain, I think," Alexis said, turning to Kate for a nod of confirmation. "But can you do shapes?"

The detective looked at him in surprise.

"You do shapes?" she asked, arching her eyebrows. "Like what? Mickey Mouse?"

Before he could answer, his daughter jumped in.

"Much more elaborate than that. He's really good. He can do all kinds of stuff."

"Why haven't I seen these before?" Kate prodded, stepping beside him to poke him in the ribs. "Usually you're all about sharing your hidden talents."

He gave her an obscenely devilish look that made her blush and earned him a smack on the arm.

Alexis glanced between them before grimacing.

"Eww, I don't want to know," she said, and Rick felt his face heating up. He decided he'd better get back to the original topic.

"I just haven't made them in awhile, that's all. They take longer. But if you want, I'll be happy to do shapes. Hopefully I'm not out of practice."

"Elephant for me," Alexis said happily. "And maybe a spider."

"And for you, Kate?" the writer asked.

"I think I'll watch you do hers first."

"Okay," he answered and turned to the griddle they'd already heated up for him.

Carefully, he formed the body of an elephant and its trunk on one side of the griddle and then a leggy spider on the other side. He looked up from his work to see Alexis grinning and Kate watching him closely.

"That's amazing, Rick. Where did you learn to do that?"

He laughed, reaching out to tap his daughter on the nose.

"This one would only eat pancakes for breakfast when she was little. Not cereal, not eggs, not french toast, not even waffles. Thankfully she grew out of it, even if it took a couple years. But while she was in that phase, we ate a lot of pancakes. And I got bored with the norm. So I started making smiley-face pancakes, and the rest followed."

Kate just shook her head.

"The things you do for love," he said softly. "So, my dear detective, what'll it be?"

She looked thoughtful for a moment, a brief flash of something that looked a lot like nostalgia appearing in her eyes.

"Can you-can you do a cat?"

He smiled at her tenderly and nodded as he flipped his daughter's pancakes.

"Sure," he said, and then pointed the spatula at her. "But I sense there's a story behind that request. Care to share?"

She turned a little red and he rethought his poking into her emotions, but before he could retract his question, she started to speak.

"When I was little, my dad and I used to make breakfast for my mom sometimes. You know, Mother's Day, her birthday, after she'd won a big case, stuff like that."

She paused, and he watched as her eyes glazed slightly in remembrance.

"He'd let me help him make whatever, and then he'd send me in to wake her up while he brought in the food. By the time he got there, I'd always be curled up on her lap with her running her fingers through my hair."

Her eyes cleared a little and she looked up at him, vulnerable. He could tell this was a happy memory, but tinged with sadness, like so many of the others. He said nothing, allowing her the space to continue if she chose.

"He called me his 'Katie-Cat' because of the way she would pet me," she said quietly, with a soft smile. "He said they'd thought about getting a cat, but decided to have me instead, because at least I could take care of them in their old age, even if they did have to put me through college."

The last part was said with a gentle laugh, echoed by the writer and his daughter. He scooped Alexis' finished pancakes onto a plate and handed them to her before looking back at his detective.

"A cat it is, then," he said, and leaned over to gently kiss her lips. "Thank you for sharing that with me."

She smiled, and nudged him to get back to his breakfast making duties.

He tried for perfection on this one, pouring thin lines for whiskers and then a larger circle for a head and finally rounded triangle ears. On the other side of the griddle, he poured two empty circles connected with a line between them. When he looked up, she quirked an eyebrow at him.

"You can't have just one," he said matter-of-factly. "Thus the handcuffs."

She laughed at him, and he felt his heart leap at the sound.

Soon enough, her pancakes were done, and she joined Alexis at the bar, watching him as he worked on his own creations, a feather ("a quill pen," he explained) and a four-leaf clover ("Just realizing how lucky I am," was his justification for that one).

Then he sat with them and they ate, light conversation and laughter warming his heart.


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: All Castle characters are the property of Andrew Marlowe and ABC.

* * *

><p>After they'd eaten breakfast and cleaned up, he joined his two girls on the couch, where they were groaning and holding their bellies. He threw an arm around each one and pulled them inward with a cheerful grin.<p>

"So, what shall we do today?"

"Ugghh, Dad, how does curling up in a ball and digesting for a few days sound to you?"

Kate nodded her agreement and the writer chuckled.

"Okay, movie time it is, but no more Cary Grant. Kate always insults me when we watch Cary Grant movies."

He glanced at the detective to see her rolling her eyes. He laughed again and tightened his grip on her.

"But I think I've got just the thing."

He couldn't keep the excited look off his face and she smiled at his enthusiasm.

"Have you ever seen 'Murder By Death'?" he asked and she shook her head.

He stood and darted over to the vast collection of DVDs.

"A serious gap in your education as a detective," he observed, grinning back at her.

He quickly found the right disc and popped it in, grabbing the remote before plopping back down between Kate and Alexis.

An hour and a half and many laughs later, the three of them still sat there, Kate shaking her head at the writer.

"I have seen a lot of movies, and that is one of the strangest," she said.

"I know," he answered. "Isn't it great?"

She leaned her head back against his shoulder, tucking herself into the crook of his neck.

"It was fun, I'll give you that."

Alexis lightly slapped his knee and pushed herself up.

"I think I'm going to go get some reading done."

She reached over to squeeze Kate's shoulder and patted her father on the top of the head and the two of them listened as she made her way upstairs.

"What do you want to do now?" he asked softly, bringing his hand up to stroke Kate's dark locks.

"Mmm...just stay here for a bit."

She leaned harder into his shoulder and he took the hint, shifting his body to a horizontal position and pulling her with him. Tucked into the small space between his side and the back of the couch, she stretched out her long legs, sliding her sock-clad toes down his shin.

He cradled her against himself, continuing to run his fingers through her hair and occasionally pressing a kiss to her forehead. Nothing was spoken for a long time. He took in the sound of her breathing and the way it felt to have her fingers absently scratching his ribs.

He still couldn't believe that she was his. That she was here, in his loft, on his couch, in his arms. That she was allowing him to hold her and touching him affectionately in return. He couldn't resist tilting her chin up so he could kiss her.

"What was that for?" she asked when he drew back.

"Just so glad you're here," he answered, and he could hear the awe in his own voice.

She snuggled deeper into his embrace, turning her head so her lips were right next to his pulse point and nuzzling into him.

"I can't think of anywhere I'd rather be," she said quietly, and he felt his heart thump a little harder in his chest.

"How did I get to be so lucky?" he murmured. "How did I get to be the one who snuggles with you during movies and wakes you up after nightmares and kisses you good morning?"

He didn't expect an answer aside from maybe an extra squeeze, but Kate lifted up to meet his eyes.

"Do you remember that day when the Captain was asking for advice on an anniversary present?"

He nodded his answer.

"And when you asked what the secret to his marriage was, what did he say?"

Rick laughed.

"He said to just keep showing up."

The detective reached up to caress his stubbly jaw.

"That's what you did, Rick. You just kept showing up. Sometimes even when I didn't want you there."

He gave her a lopsided smile, and she continued.

"At first, I only let you stay because of your connections made me keep you along."

He had the decency to look a bit sheepish.

"And then I told myself that it was because you _were_occasionally helpful and you brought the good coffee."

He started to retort that he was more than _occasionally_helpful, but she pressed a finger to his lips to silence him.

"Eventually, I had to admit that you were fun to have around. You made me laugh, and I needed that."

He inclined his head toward her.

"I live to serve, milady."

Her eyes crinkled as she smiled at him and he wondered if he would fall a little more in love _every_time she looked at him that way.

"Still, the boys make me laugh quite a bit, and I can make my own coffee, you know, and our solve rate was pretty good before you came around."

She paused as if considering the weight of her next words, and the writer stayed silent this time.

"But you showed up when no one else did," she said quietly. "You showed up when I got kicked off cases. You showed up when I was in over my head. You even showed up when I explicitly told you we were over."

He tightened his arms around her, and she allowed it. They had long since talked about that night and forgiven each other for harsh words spoken out of fear and hurt.

Finally, she spoke again, her words muffled by the way she had tucked her face into his shoulder.

"No one has ever been there for me the way you have. Not since I was growing up with my parents. And despite being a detective and spending every day seeing all the horrible things people do to each other, at some point, I started believing you when you said 'Always.'"

He gently tugged on her body until she lay fully atop him, stretched out in his embrace, his hands slowly sliding up and down her back, her cheek pressed against his.

"I meant it, Kate," he whispered hoarsely. "Anything and always."

She turned just a bit to kiss the skin closest to her, bringing her fingers up to trace the contours of his ear.

"I know, Rick, you've showed me in so many ways."

Then she pushed against his chest so she could rise up over him, and he was thrilled to see the peace and happiness in her green eyes. He felt his lips curl in an involuntary smile as he watched those eyes flick between his own gaze and his lips until she lowered herself to him.

He wrapped his arms fully around her lithe frame, anchoring her to himself and drinking her in. His eyes slid shut as their mouths met in a haze of passion, a long kiss that transitioned seamlessly from tender and languid to fierce and heated. He mapped the roof of her mouth with his tongue and she caught his in her own, drawing him back in when he moved to escape.

His hands dropped to her hips, sliding slowly beneath her shirt, the callused pads of his fingers swirling across the skin of her lower back. He dipped below her waistband, caressing the small dimples there and holding her tightly as she shivered against him.

"Ohhh," she moaned into his mouth, and the little sound flowed straight through him to lower regions. He kept his touch light and teasing, bringing his hands back to slightly safer areas, one gripping her waist, the other tracing its way up her spine, and finally coming to rest on her neck, tangled in her hair.

Finally, she pulled her mouth away from his, panting as she peppered his jaw with tiny kisses. She drew back, and he opened his eyes to find her watching him, his own adoration reflected in her gaze.

"I can't get enough of you," he breathed. "I don't think I ever will."

She brushed a thumb across his cheek and then leaned in until their breaths mingled and their noses were just touching.

"The feeling is entirely mutual, Mr. Castle."


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: All Castle characters are the property of Andrew Marlowe and ABC.

* * *

><p>They were lost in each other, fully enraptured in a world of their own making, a world of whispered promises and gentle caresses. The detective and the writer knew nothing but each other. Their tongues tangled and teased, expressing without words the banter that had always been their signature style-the back and forth, the playfulness, the toe just over the line.<p>

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't know..." Rick felt Kate startle in his arms and tore his mouth from hers to see his daughter standing, frozen, behind the couch. She was bright red, and looked very embarrassed. Kate had hidden her face in his shoulder and he could feel the heat of her cheeks against his skin.

He reigned in his own awkwardness and smiled up at his daughter.

"Hey pumpkin, what's up? Everything okay?"

"Y-yeah, everything's fine. Just came down for a drink and thought I'd check on you guys. I'll just-I'll just go back upstairs now."

Her face had reddened further during her little speech and she finally turned away with one last horrified look at him. He could tell by the set of her shoulders that she was fighting the urge to run up the stairs. As soon as she was out of earshot, a rumble of a laugh rose up in his chest. Kate smacked him, lifting up to meet his eyes and giving him a glare he hadn't seen in quite some time.

"Richard Castle, how can you laugh at this?"

"What? It's funny."

"It is not funny," Kate growled. "Your daughter just caught us making out on the couch. How are you not mortified?"

He chuckled again, earning another smack on the chest, and carefully sat up and set Kate next to him. She buried her face in her hands.

"Hey now," he said softly, reaching over to place a hand on her back. "It's okay, she's okay."

He pulled her hands away and cradled her jaw, secretly enjoying the flush on her cheeks.

"She loves you, Kate," he told her. "And she knows I love you. Besides, it's not like she's never seen me kiss you."

"We were not just kissing, Castle," she pointed out. "I was...God, I was on top of you, you were grabbing my ass!"

He had the decency to blush then, but couldn't resist paying her a compliment.

"And a very nice ass it is too."

She didn't hit him this time, but she did narrow her eyes at him, and he decided he'd better back off if he wanted to kiss her again any time soon.

"I'll go talk to her, make sure she's okay."

"I don't know if I'll ever be able to look her in the eyes again, Rick. Nobody's caught me making out with a boy since I was in high school."

He arched his eyebrows.

"I, Miss Beckett," he said with a lascivious grin, "am no boy. Or have you forgotten so quickly? Do I need to remind you of my rugged manliness?"

Her blush, which had begun to fade, bloomed anew, and she pursed her lips in a way that told him she was holding back a smile.

"Oh no, Mr. Castle. I'm well aware of your manliness. But right now, you need to go make sure we didn't scar your sweet daughter for life."

He reached over for a hug, and after a moment's resistance, she relaxed into the embrace.

"I'll go talk to her," he whispered. "Thank you for caring so much about her."

"Thanks," she murmured into his ear. "And thanks for sharing her with me."

She pulled away and stood, extending a hand to him.

"I'm gonna go take a shower while you talk to Alexis," she said.

He looked at her pleadingly as he got to his feet.

"No, you can't join me."

He pouted, and she laughed good-naturedly.

"Some other time, Rick," she said, and he sighed, resigned to his current fate.

He leaned over to place a chaste kiss on her cheek.

"Okay, then. Have a nice shower. I'll go work on undoing any permanent damage."

She squeezed the hand she still had in her grasp and then released him, heading toward the office and his bedroom. He knew she preferred his larger shower, and he was happy to let her use it. It did, at times, overwhelm him to walk into his bathroom and find himself surrounded by the scent of her, but it was a sacrifice he willingly made.

He shook himself from his thoughts after a moment of staring after her, made sure he was presentable, and steeled himself for the coming conversation. He took the stairs slowly.

He hesitated a moment outside his daughter's closed door before finally lifting his hand to rap lightly on the wood.

"Come in," she called, and he thought that she didn't sound too traumatized.

He opened her door carefully, leaning part of the way into the room.

"Hey."

"Hey dad."

She wouldn't meet his eyes.

"Can I come in?"

She rolled her eyes at him.

"Of course."

He gave her a somber smile and came to sit next to her, pulling her into his side as he rested his back against the headboard. He waited until she had marked her spot in the book she was reading before he spoke.

"I'm sorry."

She didn't ask what he meant, just sighed and snuggled into him a little more.

"It's okay," she said haltingly. "I was just surprised."

"I am sorry," he repeated, realizing now why Kate had been so embarrassed. This was incredibly awkward.

"I know, Dad," Alexis reassured him.

She tilted her head to meet his eyes.

"I know you and Kate are together, and I know that you love her. I love her too."

She paused, and he could see that she was wrestling with her thoughts.

"I don't mind watching you cuddle with her or seeing you kiss her hello and stuff like that. I think it's kinda sweet."

"But..." he prompted.

"But you're my dad, and it still freaks me out a little to think of you doing any more than kissing. It's just...I don't know...it's just icky."

He chuckled.

"Now you know how I felt that night when I came home and met Ashley the first time."

He elbowed her lightly in the ribs as her face flushed again.

"Yeah, but we were just kissing," she said. "You and Kate were...well, not just kissing."

She shuddered slightly, and it was all he could do not to laugh again.

"We didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, pumpkin. And we'll try to be a little more aware of our surroundings from now on."

Alexis lifted up to kiss his cheek.

"Thanks, Dad. Is Kate okay?"

He smiled at her concern.

"She's fine, sweetheart, just embarrassed, and probably a little mad at me."

He felt his daughter tense in his arms.

"Mad at you? Why? Are you guys alright?"

He hugged her closer, kissing her forehead.

"We're good, baby. Better than good actually. I just made the mistake of laughing after you left and she didn't take very kindly to that."

His confession earned him a thump on the chest.

"Daaaad!"

"I'm sorry! I couldn't help it! You were just so flustered, it was cute! Geez, what is it with you women hitting me?"

That got a laugh out of his daughter, who reached over to grab a pillow. She swung it at him full force before he had a chance to defend himself. But it didn't take him long to recover.

She tried to get in another hit as he lunged, but she missed, and he tackled her into the softness of the mattress, pinning her as he reached for her ribs to tickle her into submission. It only took a moment for her to reach the breaking point as she giggled uncontrollably, tears streaming down her cheeks.

"Alright, alright, I surrender!" she conceded breathlessly, lifting her hands in defeat.

His own breath came in gasps as he let himself fall on top of her.

"Ugghh, Dad, get off," she begged, pushing her hands against his chest. "You're heavy."

He rolled onto his side next to her, grinning at his daughter who lay there panting, her face flushed with exertion and laughter.

He threw an arm out, landing it above her head, and she took the invitation, tucking herself into his side, her cheek resting just over his heart.

He placed a soft kiss on the crown of her head, sniffing her fiery hair. She smelled sweet, different than she had when she was a baby or a little girl, but her scent was still comforting to him and he felt his heart swell with love for her.

She wrapped an arm fully around him, smushing her cheek into his chest.

"I love you, Dad."

His heart clenched, and he felt tears springing to his eyes.

"I love you too, baby bird, so much."

He basked in the warmth for a moment, before lifting her chin in his strong hand so he could see her face.

"You'll always be my number one girl, you know that, right?"

She nodded sagely.

"I'm yours, pumpkin, first and foremost, and I always will be."

She spoke then, and he wondered if his heart might just explode right out of his chest.

"I know, but I don't really mind sharing you with Kate."


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: All Castle characters are the property of Andrew Marlowe and ABC.

* * *

><p>They had spent little time together, just the two of them, for the past few months. Alexis had placed no demands on him, but he knew he missed having time alone with her, and he hoped she felt the same way about him.<p>

So after their discussion about discretion and the brief pillow versus tickle fight, they just stayed there, sprawled out on her bed, Castle combing his fingers through her soft hair and his daughter twisting her fingers in the collar of his t-shirt.

She hadn't done that in a long time, he mused. When she had been much younger, she would occasionally attend parties or meetings with him, and he usually ended up sitting with her in his lap before the events were done. She would be tired, and her tried and true method of staying awake had been to amuse herself with the collar or buttons of her father's shirt. He loved having her with him and had never minded the missing buttons or stretched collars that resulted.

"You sleepy?" he asked quietly, lifting his head to see her face.

She didn't speak, but nodded slowly, her eyes already half-closed. She looked so much younger than her seventeen years.

"Want me to go away and let you take a nap?" he inquired, starting to remove his arm from where it cradled her.

"Stay."

The word came out so softly that he barely heard it, but he felt her hand fist in his shirt, so he settled back in, reaching over to grab the discarded pillow and stuffing it behind his head.

"Warm enough?"

She nodded against him once more, and he went back to his previous activity, elbow bent to allow his hand to stroke her hair, fingers occasionally delving down to rasp gently against her scalp. For years, that had worked to soothe her, sending her to sleep within minutes. From the way her breathing had evened out, he guessed it still did the trick.

Cocooned in the peace of a lazy day and the knowledge that at least for now, all was right in his world, he allowed his eyes to slide shut.

He drifted in and out of consciousness, his daughter's warmth and gentle breathing and occasional soft snort lending him a sense of security that he'd rarely felt since the danger of Kate's mother's case had made itself known.

After a little while, he got the uncanny sense that he was being watched. He surreptitiously opened one eye to find his favorite detective leaning against the doorjamb, freshly clothed in gray leggings and a deep red button-up. One of his, he observed. Her hair was pulled into a messy bun, damp tendrils escaping to frame her beautiful face. She didn't seem to have noticed that he was awake. Her expression was tender and unguarded, but her eyes were a little unfocused and he wondered what she was thinking.

"Hey," he called quietly, lifting his head a little and trying not to wake Alexis.

Her eyes snapped to his and she gave him a soft smile.

"Decided to take a bath instead. Sorry it took so long."

"S'okay."

She inclined her head toward Alexis.

"All good?"

He smiled.

"All good. I apologized, told her we'd try to be a little more discrete in the future."

She reddened a little, but nodded.

"Yeah."

She stood there in silence for a minute or so and he just watched her, taking in her posture, the play of emotions on her face, the way her arms were wrapped protectively around her middle.

"You okay?" he asked, furrowing his eyebrows.

Her answer was a quiet "mmhmm" of assurance, but she still looked pensive, a little vulnerable.

"Can I-I mean, is it okay if I..." she trailed off with a glance at Alexis, and his heart melted at her insecurity.

He lifted his free hand and beckoned to her.

"I don't think she'll mind," he said in a low voice, giving her what he hoped was an encouraging smile.

She hesitated for a moment more, but then came to stand next to the bed, reaching down to squeeze his bare foot where it hung off the edge. She slid her thumb across the sole before brushing it over his ankle bone. She was sexy as hell, he thought, and played the part of a teasing temptress well when it suited her, but it was these little touches, these small, affectionate, not remotely sexual caresses that made his heart pound the hardest.

She looked up at him, and he poured all of his love for her into his gaze. She smiled shyly and released his foot with a final squeeze, leaning over to snag another pillow from the stack at the head of the bed.

And then she surprised him. He expected her to shimmy up next to him in the space between his body and the headboard, to nestle herself into the crook of his free arm.

Instead, she went to the other side, to the foot of the bed, carefully crawling onto the mattress behind the young redhead, arranging the pillow, settling on her side with her right arm hooked under the pillow. He turned his head so he could see her face. A lock fell into her eyes, and he watched as she tried to blow sideways out of her mouth to remove it. It didn't work. She brought her left hand up to tuck it behind her ear.

He didn't know what made his daughter stir, the movement or the sound of Kate's puff of air, but he watched as she shifted a little, her eyes fluttering open briefly and closing again, coming back to semi-awareness for a moment. She smiled sleepily into his chest.

"Hey Kate," she murmured.

"Hey Lex," the detective returned quietly. "Go back to sleep."

"Mmmkay," the girl hummed, lifting her left arm from her father's chest.

She reached behind her to grasp the older woman's wrist and drew it over her, pulling it down so she could slide the detective's fingers into her right hand where it rested, warm against Castle's side.

The writer watched the moment unfold in wonderment, glancing up to see Kate looking at him with glistening eyes.

He knew she was not accustomed to such easy affection. He could tell from pictures and stories that the Beckett household had been warm and loving as she grew up. It was something she'd lost, he thought, with her mother's burial and her father's descent into the bottle. But she had become much more touchy-feely in the past couple months, not only with him, but also with his family and their friends.

She and Lanie had exchanged many hugs during her recovery, and he had re-entered her hospital room more than once to find the two of them squished into the small space of the narrow bed, reading through get well cards or watching an episode of Temptation Lane.

Even with "her" boys, she'd opened up, leaning into Javier's brotherly embrace when he came to tell her they'd run out of leads on the sniper, and squeezing Kevin's arm when he brought her a milkshake from Remy's and a batch of double chocolate cookies that Jenny had baked.

Still, Rick was careful much of the time to let Kate initiate the affection between them, giving her the space and control she so desperately craved. He made sure she knew that her touch was always welcome to him, but beyond greeting hugs and holding her hand, he generally waited for her to come to him, or at least to give him the green light to close the distance between them.

He watched as a small, surprised smile played on her lips, and he lifted his eyes to thank God, the universe or whomever for his wonderful daughter who had, in one half-conscious moment, erased some of the fears Kate had expressed to him over the past three months.

She was afraid, she told him, that Alexis would feel left out, abandoned because of how much time he spent helping her heal. He had tried to assure her that wasn't the case, that his daughter knew how much he cherished his relationship with her, the effortless love they'd had for each other since the day she was born. But the detective was still uneasy, not wanting the girl to resent their new houseguest. And after this morning's incident, he suspected her fears had been doubled.

But now, now she was gazing at him serenely through dark lashes, and he could see one less layer of worry in her eyes.

He blinked at her slowly, working to keep his eyes open until hers closed. He couldn't reach her without disturbing Alexis, but he formed his lips into a kiss, watching her eyes drop to his mouth at the movement.

She smiled at him one last time, pursed her own lips in reply, and he watched the tension leave her completely as gave herself over to the urge to rest. He followed soon after, more content than he'd been in a very long time.


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: All Castle characters are the property of Andrew Marlowe and ABC.

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><p>The first thing he noticed when he woke was that Alexis was no longer tucked tightly into his chest. She had turned over to face the other way, unbending his arm to use it as a cushion.<p>

The hand that had been in her hair was now surrounded by warm fingers. His daughter's?—he wondered, giving the hand an experimental squeeze. No, Kate's, he realized when she squeezed in return and pressed a soft kiss to his knuckles.

He rolled onto his side to face them, the detective meeting his sleepy gaze over the redhead between them. He gave her a smile and then ran his free hand down the teenager's arm.

"What time is it?" he yawned.

"Almost four," his daughter answered, tilting her head in his direction.

He yawned again and reached up to rub the sleep out of his eyes.

"Your dad still coming over for dinner?" he directed at the detective.

Kate nodded.

"As far as I know."

When she had been released from the hospital, it had been concluded that the Castles' loft was better suited to her recovery than her own apartment or her father's place. But Rick had been sure to let the older man know that he was welcome to visit at any time.

At first, Jim Beckett had been by nearly every day, then a couple times a week. Now, though he called to check on her often, his visits had tapered down to weekly dinners, usually on Saturday nights.

"What do you want to do for dinner? I don't think we have time to go grocery shopping."

"Yeah, I know," Kate answered. "I checked earlier, though, and it looks like we have all the makings for tacos. How does that sound?"

"Sounds perfect," he said, giving her a bright smile. "You'll be here, pumpkin?"

"Yep, no plans tonight, so I'll be around," she confirmed. "As long as that's okay, I mean."

He was about to speak, but Kate grinned at the girl and beat him to it.

"You know my father loves you, right?"

"Really?" Alexis asked with a tone of surprised pleasure.

"Really. I think he asks how you are almost as often as he asks me how I'm doing."

"But I've only met him a few times," she protested.

"Well, you must have impressed him somehow," Kate said, lifting a finger to flick the girl's nose. "Seriously, he's asked me why I wasn't more like you when I was your age."

Castle laughed as his daughter spluttered and the detective's eyes just twinkled.

"But you must have been perfect!"

"Yeah, not so much," Kate admitted a little bashfully. "I was a bit of a rebel for awhile. Did a few things I'm not proud of, dated a few guys who weren't worth it. You've got a much better head on your shoulders."

Alexis said nothing for a moment, and he watched as Kate watched her.

"Thank you," his daughter finally answered, and he could hear the shy smile in her voice.

"Well," he said, catching Kate's eyes with a twinkle of his own. "Despite your rebellion you didn't turn out _too_ bad."

He had almost forgotten that she had hold of his hand, but she quickly reminded him with a sharp, nearly painful pressure on the meat of his thumb, just as Alexis elbowed him in the ribs.

"Man," he whined. "I'm gonna have to report the two of you for abuse!"

Kate rolled her eyes.

"A jury would never convict us, Castle."

"She's right, Dad," Alexis chimed in.

"Oh ho, she's right is she?" he said with a chortle, snatching his hand away from Kate and enfolding his daughter in his grasp. "You're supposed to be on my side, my dear."

She thrashed in his arms as he began tickling her, but her agony only lasted a moment before the detective joined in the battle.

He should have predicted, of course, that they'd gang up on him. Before long, the two women had him curled up in a ball, gasping desperately for air, tears cascading down his cherry red cheeks.

"Apples! Apples! Apples!" he finally wheezed out, and they relented.

They shared a look of triumph and a quick high-five as they knelt over his still quaking body.

"C'mon, Castle," Kate said haughtily. "You should know better."

Alexis shook her head and gave him a pitying look.

"You'd think he'd have learned by now."

"You'd think," the detective said with a nod. "But he's not so bright, this one."

He opened his mouth to retort, but Kate reached down to gently tug on his shirt.

"Come on, Dopey, time to get up."

He frowned at her further insult to his intelligence.

"I'm about to be Grumpy."

His girls laughed and he couldn't hold onto the grimace, a begrudging smile appearing in its place as his acknowledgment of how they'd bested him.

"And back to Happy," Alexis observed, joining Kate in pulling him upright.

They stood, and he wrapped an arm around each one, squeezing them tightly and enjoying the crush of their shoulders against either side of his chest.

He released them both then, and Alexis preceded the adults out of her room, heading for the stairs. He made to follow her, but Kate caught his hand in hers, holding him back for a moment.

He turned to face her, a question in his eyes. But she just shook her head with a smile, leaning in to place a kiss on his bicep. He gave her a tender smile and threaded their fingers together, dropping his head to press his mouth to the spot just below her ear.

She shivered a little, and he smiled against her, nudging her soft lobe with his nose. Her hand came up to weave into his hair, but rather than the sensuous kiss he knew she was expecting, he blew rapidly on her neck, a loud raspberry thundering over her skin.

She jolted in surprise, and he jumped away, laughing loudly. He looked out the door at Alexis, who had paused at the top of the stairs, staring at him in confusion before finally shaking her head and going down.

His distraction with his daughter cost him, though, and he pitched forward as Kate walloped him on the back of the head.

Regaining his balance, he turned to glare at her, but she was already floating out of the room in a cloud of euphoric laughter.

His heart fluttered, and he trailed after the detective. He wasn't sure what the future would bring, but if it was anything like the past three years, he knew he'd follow her anywhere.


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: All Castle characters are the property of Andrew Marlowe and ABC.

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><p>They spent the next hour working in seamless synchronicity. Rick seasoned and browned the chicken and then the ground beef while Alexis prepared dessert, and Kate chopped tomatoes, onions and jalepeños.<p>

Castle had known for awhile that he and Kate worked well together. Despite their many relational missteps, when it came down to business, they simply got each other, seeming to be on the same wavelength more often than not.

And of course, he and Alexis had years of practicing the intricate dance of preparing a meal together.

So he had not been surprised-but very pleased all the same-to discover that the steps with his daughter were not disrupted by adding Kate to the mix, nor did his silent communication with the detective seem to be affected by the presence of his daughter.

They were good together. He pondered that while he cooked, remembering his words to the beautiful detective after their first case. He had offered a "debriefing." He had known then that he wanted to get under her skin. But it was when she called him on his crap and refused his blatant advance and told him he had no idea how great they could be that he started to wonder: How great could they be?

Pretty great, as it turned out. Unbelievably great, though he had never pictured great looking like this. Like love and comfort and family.

He turned to watch her for a moment, caught her with her head thrown back in laughter at something his daughter had said from underneath the cabinet where she was searching for the cheese grater.

He was thankful, so thankful, that she'd given him a chance. So thankful that he'd given this life a chance, that he'd given up on actresses and divas and women who gave in to his charms so easily. They were right, whoever "they" were: the best things are worth fighting for. He'd fought for her. Fought his public image, fought her misgivings, fought his own weaknesses.

And somehow, he'd won. He'd won her heart and her trust and here she sat, perched on a barstool at his kitchen counter, chopping vegetables and laughing with his daughter and looking for all the world like she belonged, like she'd been here forever and always would be.

She turned her head just then, as if she felt his eyes on her. At her questioning look he shrugged, his lips quirking in a half smile. Her eyes crinkled at the edges as she grinned at him. He directed his attention back to the pan of browning meat in front of him, but he was still aware of her, always aware of her.

He heard her answer to Alexis when the girl said she was going upstairs to get ready. He listened to the soft scrape of friction as she slipped off the stool, the light thump as she landed on bare feet, the faint slap of her soles against the cool tile. And then...and then her contented sigh from just behind him, the little hum as she leaned into his back, her arms snaking around his chest as she lifted up on tiptoes to rest her chin on his shoulder.

He brought one hand up to smooth across her arms, his other hand continuing the circular motion of the wooden spoon in the pan. Tilting his head toward her, he felt her lips gently meet his ear.

"I'm gonna go change clothes," she whispered, her breath tickling him in all the right ways.

"What's wrong with what you're wearing?" he asked, his voice deep and husky.

She gave a throaty chuckle that sent tremors down his spine.

"I don't think my dad is quite ready to see me wearing one of your shirts, Rick."

Oh. He could see the sense in that.

"Let's save that for later," she continued, her tone still low, a little teasing.

"Later?" he questioned, not really thinking about his words. He was too focused on the feel of her, of her chest pressed against his back, of her fingers flexing against his abdomen.

"Later," she repeated. "Later, when our kids come in and jump on the bed on Christmas morning to wake us up and drag us out to the living room where he's looking groggy himself but thrilled to be playing Santa Claus to his grandchildren. Later."

He was frozen. Completely still, and not even certain he was still breathing. Had she really just said all that or had he fallen too deep into one of his fantasies? It had happened once or twice. His imagination was just too good sometimes and he would lose track of reality for a few minutes until something brought him back, usually accompanied by some strange looks and a little embarrassment.

She tightened one hand on his chest and dropped the other to remove the spoon from his fingers and set it on the edge of the pan. It was enough to restart his breathing. Slowly, hesitantly, he turned in her arms, holding her tightly to himself.

"Is-is that what you want?" he asked in barely a whisper.

She nodded, lifting her face to meet his eyes. He saw a flicker of something like uncertainty in her gaze.

"Is that what you want, Rick?"

His breath left him in a single whoosh, and he was glad for the strength of the counter to lean on.

"More than anything."

It was a prayer, a plea to whomever was listening that they would see that future someday.

She pressed her cheek to his chest, and he was sure she could hear his heart pounding. He lifted a hand from her back to brush her hair away from her forehead.

"I didn't know you wanted kids."

She tilted her head back, her green eyes soft, but still piercing.

"I didn't either."

"What made you decide?"

She hesitated for a moment, but as his hand began gliding up and down her back, she smiled.

"Alexis."

He arched an eyebrow at her in curiosity, waited for her to explain.

"Earlier, when I found the two of you asleep in her room, the way you were holding her so protectively, the way she was curled around you. I just...I want that."

He pulled her closer, cradling her head in one hand. He felt a rush of something deep within him, something he'd only felt a few times, an instinctive need to wrap himself around her, to keep her safe from any and all harm.

Somehow, though, he didn't think she'd really appreciate his sudden impulse to become the alpha male marking his territory. So he settled for a tight hug and a kiss to her forehead.

"Thank you," he murmured before he let her go.

"For what?"

"For making my dreams come true," he whispered, and he felt her breath hitch.

Before he knew what was happening, her mouth was on his, her hands tangling in his short hair and drawing him down to her. She was fierce, and he realized she would be this way as a mother too-tender in one moment, ferocious in the next.

He allowed himself to be pulled under. He was drowning in her, the scent of her body wash, the smoothness of her skin, the heat of her body pressed against his. He was floundering in the deep blue of her passion, and he couldn't be bothered to tread water.

"Uggh...twice in one day? Really?"

He jumped back as if shocked, barely avoiding smacking his hand against the hot stove.

"Alexis! Oh...sorry!"

He felt the blush rising on his face as he looked at her apologetically.

She just shook her head.

"Don't burn the beef, Dad."

As he turned back to the stove, he sneaked a glance at Kate. Unlike earlier, she didn't seem flustered in the least. Her cheeks were a little pink, but she bore a self-satisfied smirk that made him grin in return.

"You know, on second thought, I think I'd better take over from here, Dad."

Alexis approached him and removed the wooden spoon from his hand, turning the heat down a little.

"You guys should probably go get ready."

Castle nodded his assent, and began to follow Kate out of the kitchen.

"It's almost 5:30, so Kate's dad should be here soon," she called after them. "So just don't, you know...just don't take too long."

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><p>Author's note: Yeah, I imagine things won't turn out this way in "real life." After all, angst and drama make for great story-telling. But sometimes, I just need fluff. And I think many of you feel the same way. Thus, this story. I'm glad y'all are enjoying reading it as much as I am enjoying writing it. As always, I truly appreciate the reviews, favorites, and alerts that pop up in my inbox.<p> 


	11. Chapter 11

Disclaimer: All Castle characters are the property of Andrew Marlowe and ABC.

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><p>He caught Kate's hand halfway to the stairs.<p>

"Where are you going?"

She rolled her eyes, but smiled nonetheless.

"To get ready, Rick."

"But it'll be quicker if we shower together," he said slyly. "Not to mention greener."

She laughed, pushing him away with a hand to his chest.

"A: I very much doubt it would be quicker or greener, because I have a feeling you wouldn't keep your hands to yourself and it would take us twice as long. And B: I already took a bath, remember? All I need to do is get dressed."

His face dropped, and his bottom lip pushed out in a pout.

"You ruin all my fun."

She lifted her fingers to squeeze his mouth into a fish face and pressed her lips briefly to his.

"I'll make it up to you later, you big baby. Now go make yourself pretty."

He glared at her, and tried to retort, but she was still holding his mouth shut. She released him with two sharp pats on the cheek and turned away from him. He stood for a moment, watching the sway of her hips as she ascended the stairs.

As she reached the top, she looked back with a smirk. He was still standing there, his head tilted to the side a little, studying her movements.

"Close your mouth, Writer Man."

And then with a sweet laugh—at his expense, though he couldn't find it in him to mind—she disappeared down the hall.

He was still there, staring after her, pondering the wonder of having her in his home and in his life when a voice jarred him out of his thoughts.

"Richard, what in the world are you doing?"

He turned to see his mother, a few feet away with her hands on her hips, looking at him as if he were crazy.

"Hello, Mother."

"Yes, hello, Richard," she said impatiently. "Now I ask again, what are you doing?"

"Oh, uh, nothing," he stuttered out sheepishly. "Just going to take a shower."

"And you were what? Waiting for it to rain on you here in the living room?"

He felt himself blush and wondered just how long she'd been standing there.

"Well, go on then, go take your shower before Jim gets here."

She had advanced towards him and gave him an exasperated push toward his bedroom.

He caught her hand and twirled her into his arms for a moment, pressing a gentlemanly kiss to her cheek.

"Oh, you," she said, shoving herself gently away from his chest. "What was that for?"

"What?" he asked in mock offense. "Can't a boy kiss his mother once in awhile?"

Her visage softened and she lifted a hand to cup his cheek. His eyes crinkled as he smiled down at her.

"Of course, and I'm glad you do, Darling," she said kindly. "Now go."

He hugged her again, asking as he did if she was staying for dinner.

"If you'll let me," she answered.

He pulled back to meet her eyes, the eyes that he knew were so much like his own and his daughter's.

"Mother, you are always welcome," he said sincerely. "I know I tease you, but I am—WE are—glad to have you here."

He thought he saw her eyes mist a little before she smacked him lightly on the arm.

"Really, Richard," she said dramatically. "You should know better by now than to make a woman mess up her makeup by crying when she doesn't have time to fix it. Looking this good takes work you know!"

He grinned and apologized with laughter in his voice, then headed off to his bedroom.

Closing the door behind him, he made his way over to the large walk in closet. Kate had teased him more than once about his abundance of clothes. He, of course, defending himself by saying that there was nothing wrong with wanting to look nice – and had she noticed her jacket collection lately?

After flipping through hangers and digging through drawers, he finally settled on a pair of dark jeans and a robin's egg blue shirt that Alexis had given him (with matching tie) a few birthdays ago.

He set the clothes in a neat pile on the bed along with a fresh pair of boxers and socks. Proceeding into the en suite, he leaned into the large shower and turned on the water. He shut the door to keep the steam in, grabbed a towel from the cabinet and hung it on the warmer before stripping out of his sweats, boxers, and t-shirt.

When he entered the hot water again, he yelped a little and quickly turned it down a few degrees. As his skin adjusted to the temperature, he massaged shampoo into his hair and then squirted a little body wash onto a sponge, lathering his arms and chest first and working his way down.

Before long he was finished, rinsing himself off, and reaching out of the steam-filled shower for his towel. His hand probed around a bit but couldn't find the warm terry-cloth where he was sure he'd left it. Finally, he turned his head to look for himself.

There stood Kate, still barefoot, but dressed in blue jeans and a light purple tee that made her eyes look even greener than usual. She held something out for him to take. His towel, he realized.

"Fancy meeting you here," he said in a deep voice, doing his best to hide his surprise and delight.

He thrust an arm out for the towel, but she pulled it just out of his reach. She hadn't spoken yet, but there was something in her eyes, a wicked glint that he recognized from all the times she had teased him.

It was the same look she'd given him when she told him about that "hot, wild, kinky thing" that she did like to do. The same look she'd given him when she willingly popped "one more button." That look was dangerous, and Richard Castle knew it.

"Kate?" he questioned timidly, leaning toward her for the towel, still not fully out from behind the shower door.

"Dad called," she said, backing up a little so she was further out of reach.

He was forced then to step out of the shower and drip on the floor.

"He did? What did he say?"

She met his wary gaze, which dropped to her mouth when her tongue came out to moisten her lips. Bringing his eyes back up, he realized hers were no longer on his face. He shivered a little when he took in the way she was looking at him, surveying his firm chest, darting back up to give him a slow wink and then sliding downward.

"He's running late."

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><p>Author's note: Honestly, I keep trying to get them to dinner with Jim, but they just won't go! Stubborn little things. Although, if I had the opportunity to cuddle up to Rick Castle (or Nathan Fillion, for that matter), I might not be in any hurry to eat dinner either. ;) Glad you all are enjoying the fluff as much as I am. I'll keep writing it if y'all will keep reading it!<p> 


	12. Chapter 12

Disclaimer: All Castle characters are the property of Andrew Marlowe and ABC.

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><p>"How late is late?"<p>

"Half an hour, maybe an hour. Plenty of time."

"Time for-" his voice came out higher than he expected and he cleared his throat. "Time for what, exactly?"

She lifted the towel, and he reached out to take it, but instead, she swung it around his neck, pulling him down a few inches to her level.

"That's entirely up to you," she said in a seductive whisper. "I might suggest that you begin by drying off though. You're making a mess on the floor."

He glanced down to see a puddle forming under his feet. Bringing his gaze back to hers, he felt a flutter in his chest at the barely concealed laughter in her eyes.

"And who caused that?" he asked in as serious a tone as he could muster. "I seem to recall putting out a towel for myself. It's not my fault someone stole it."

"And who might that someone be?"

He gestured at her.

"Well, if the evidence speaks, I'd say it was you," he paused and lifted an eyebrow. "But that can't be right. I mean, an officer of the law would never go around stealing towels from innocent men."

At that, she laughed out loud.

"Innocent? Is that what you are?"

"Until proven guilty, Detective. What about you? Do you claim to be innocent of this heinous crime?"

He had leaned in as he spoke until his mouth was only a few inches from hers. Her eyes had flicked down to his lips as he spoke.

"Not this time," she whispered, and tugged on the towel around his neck to close the distance between them.

He loved their kisses and the way he could differentiate between each one. They had their passionate liplocks, borne out of a need for each other, a need to feel that they were both still alive after the events of the past few months. They had their tender caresses, the ones he gave her when she was hurt and needed her favorite form of distraction. They had their sweet pecks, when one of them left or came home, or when they first woke up, or when he walked by as she read in the living room, the ones that spoke of how comfortable they were with each other.

This one was playful. She nipped at his bottom lip, pulling it away from his teeth and soothing it with her tongue. He nuzzled against her, tickling her with the stubble he hadn't shaved yet. She giggled a little, and he pulled away to see the pleasure in her face that tugged up the corners of her mouth.

"So you admit your guilt," he said, lifting a finger to tilt her chin up.

"Uh-huh," she said, a challenging tone entering her voice. "Whatcha gonna do about it, Castle? Turn me in?"

He pulled back to look at her appraisingly.

"Smart girl like you? I wouldn't want to ruin your future. I see no reason to press charges as long as you take care of your mess."

She rolled her eyes.

"How very generous of you."

He was about to respond when she dragged him toward her for another kiss, this one hard and demanding. He staggered back a step when she released him, catching his breath.

"Well, then," she said slowly. "Let's see if we can get all this water cleaned up."

She lifted the towel over his head, rubbing at his dark locks, pulling the cloth down after a moment. He could see the mirror in his peripheral vision and could tell from her expression that she liked how his damp hair stood up every which way.

After that, she shimmied the towel down the planes of his back and over his rear end, standing a little too close for his comfort. She stepped back when she was finished with his back, letting go one end of the towel and wrapping it around her fingers to make a kind of mitt.

He inhaled sharply as she brought her hand to his chest. Her movements were gentle, but the towel itself, comparatively soft though it was, was rough on his skin, hitting every nerve ending and setting him on fire.

The intense look of concentration on her face was too much for him, but he wasn't about to tell her to stop. So he squeezed shut his eyes and focused on slowing down his rapid breathing.

When she'd finished with his chest, she moved down to his legs, tickling the backs of his knees and nearly causing him to lose his balance as she made her pass.

She moved away for a moment and he opened his eyes to see her reaching back to the hamper and removing a used towel, dropping it on the floor to sop up the little puddle under his feet.

When she'd dried the floor, she looked up at him, and his heart nearly stopped at the wicked grin on her beautiful face. She was a Siren, he was sure of it, luring him in only to lead him to his death. But oh, what a wonderful way to go...

She stood slowly, trailing the towel over the front of his body and hitting all the right spots before finally draping it over his shoulder and stepping even closer to him.

"All dry?" he whispered hoarsely and drew her in for a soft kiss.

She let him linger for a moment and then pulled back so he could see the glint in her eyes.

"You are."

His jaw slackened a little as he took in her teasing, hungry expression. Then he reached down to sweep an arm under her knees, grasping her shoulders tightly in his other arm and lifting her effortlessly, much to her surprise if he went by her current expression.

She had not quite closed the door to the bathroom, and he was thankful for small favors. He nudged it open with his foot, and in three quick strides was standing next to the bed, staring down at the woman in his arms. Her eyes were dark, fierce in her passion, but still holding the hint of humor that turned him on more than he could imagine.

He set her gently on the bed and leaned over her, quite willingly letting her weave her fingers into his hair and drag him down for a long kiss that had him moaning into her mouth.

"You are an evil, evil woman," he panted as he pulled away for a moment. "Maybe I should have pressed charges against you after all."

"Mmm, maybe," she returned, leisurely opening her eyes and allowing him to see the effect he had on her. "Or you could press something else against me. I'm sure I deserve it."

He growled, and her laugh rang out, wicked and perfect. It was his undoing.

* * *

><p>Author's note: First off, sorry for the lack of update yesterday. Sick, no inspiration, and didn't feel like typing. Secondly, we'll get to dinner next time, I promise! Thirdly, thanks for the alerts, favorites, and reviews...they're so much fun to see and read. One reviewer in particular on the last chapter made my night and made me decide to include a little more skin, so you can thank <strong>daphnebeauty<strong> for the content of this chapter. ;)


	13. Chapter 13

Disclaimer: All Castle characters are the property of Andrew Marlowe and ABC.

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><p>Six thirty found him back in the bathroom, finally getting ready for dinner. She was perched on the counter next to the sink, ankles hooked around his thighs, pulling him into the vee of her legs as she buttoned up his shirt, peppering his chest with light kisses all the while.<p>

"You're very distracting, you know," he rumbled, dragging a wet comb through his hair and trying to get it to lay flat.

"Mmm, sorry," she whispered as she pushed the last button through and pressed her lips into the hollow of his throat.

He set the comb down with a sigh of frustration and shoved his hands into the back of his pants to tuck in his shirt. She stilled him with a hand on his arm when he got to the front, reaching down to push the turquoise fabric into his jeans, fastening the button, and sliding the zipper up, giving him a soft pat as she did.

He let out the breath he'd been holding and pulled her close, nuzzling against her hair and relishing her quick intake of breath as he spoke into her ear.

"How am I supposed to get ready for dinner with your father when all I want to do is rip your clothes off again and push you into that shower?"

She shivered in his arms and he drew back to look at her, taking in the flush of her cheeks and her dilated pupils.

"You make me crazy," he whispered, leaning into her for a warm kiss.

Her arms twined around his neck, one hand sliding into his hair. She laughed when he pulled back, nudging him to look in the mirror. His hair was once again standing on end.

"Come here," she said quietly, pressing on the back of his neck.

He leaned down obediently, and she reached over to squirt a bit of mousse into her hand before bringing it back to his head. He held as still as possible under her tender touch, shutting his eyes as he savored the feeling. After a moment, one hand slid down to his shoulder, the other to his cheek, and he shifted to kiss her palm.

The just watched each other for a moment, his heart thudding harder at the look of pure affection on her face. Finally, he dropped his hands to grip her waist, pulling her forward and setting her carefully on the cool tile floor.

She leaned against him for a moment, her forehead on his chest, and he felt her take a deep breath.

"You always smell so good," she murmured before turning around to rinse the remnants of the mousse from her hands.

He couldn't resist the urge to wrap his arms around her waist and draw her back into his chest, placing a tiny kiss on her temple.

"Come on," she said softly, bringing a hand up to rasp her nails gently across his freshly shaved cheek. "Dinner time."

He removed his arms from around her waist, but she took his hand as she led him out. They paused so he could slip on a pair of casual shoes, but she remained barefoot and a few inches shorter than him. He didn't mind.

Hands still joined, they made their way to the living room, just in time to hear the door buzzer. He checked the peephole and released her hand as he opened the door, grinning as he watched her throw her arms around her father.

Jim returned the embrace, smiling all the while.

"Katie-girl! How are you, sweetheart?"

"I'm good, Dad," she responded, leaning into his touch as he brushed her hair out of her eyes. "How are you?"

"Fine, fine. Sorry I was late."

"It was no problem," she said, shooting a hidden wink to Rick, who felt himself start to blush.

Letting go of his daughter, Jim turned to the writer, reaching out for a handshake. He gave the older man a firm grip and found himself pulled into a hug as well.

"Great to see you, Rick," he said as he stepped back. "How's our girl really doing?"

Kate let out of huff of annoyance, and Castle smiled, turning to look at her even as he answered her father's question.

"She's doing well, Jim, really well. It was a long week with her going back to the precinct, but she handled it like the extraordinary woman she is."

"And how have you handled it?"

Rick laughed.

"By being overprotective and driving her insane, I'm sure."

Kate reached for his hand, bringing his knuckles up to her lips.

"He's been great, Dad," she said, her eyes focused on the writer. "Better than I could have asked."

Rick gave her a soft smile, seeing out of the corner of his eye the way that Jim was watching the two of them, a nostalgic expression on his face.

"Well," he said, bringing their hands down to his side. "Shall we go see if dinner is ready? Hope you like tacos, Jim."

Mr. Beckett nodded and wrapped an arm around his daughter as the three of them made their way to the dining room where he and Kate sat down. Rick dropped a kiss to the top of her head.

"I'll be right back."

He found Alexis and Martha in the kitchen, pulling pans of chicken and beef out of the oven where they'd been kept warm. He took them and his daughter followed with a tray of various accompaniments. She set the bowls of cheese, sour cream, and salsa on the table along with the bowl of peppers, onions, and tomatoes that Kate had chopped and the plate of corn tortillas.

"Hi Mr. Beckett."

The older man returned her bright smile and pulled her over for a quick hug.

"How are you, Alexis?"

"Great! Hungry, at the moment."

"Me too, sorry for making you all wait."

Alexis shrugged.

"No worries. We're just glad to have you here."

Jim nodded gratefully.

"I'm glad to be here, especially after what slowed me down."

Rick was about to ask what had happened when his mother breezed in with a pitcher of something dark red.

"Ahh, hello everyone!"

Jim stood to greet her with a kiss to the back of her hand.

"Lovely to see you, Martha. What's that you've got?"

She set the pitcher down on the table, and her son leaned over to sniff it.

"Smells like sangria, Mother," he said suspiciously.

"Almost, Richard," she said, waving off the beginnings of his protest. "No, it's non-alcoholic, dear. Just sparkling grape juice and a few other things. I thought it would go well with the meal."

He caught Kate's smile of appreciation and gave his mother a nod.

"Thanks, Mom. Sounds good." He turned his attention back to the senior Beckett. "So, Jim, what was it that delayed you?"

"Oh, there was an accident on my way here. Slick roads, you know. The driver in front of me was speeding, the light turned, and he hit his brakes, but it was too late. He skidded into the intersection and slammed into another car. Since I saw it happen, I stopped to check on the people in the cars and give the police my statement."

Rick noticed that Kate had gone white during the story and he reached over to squeeze her knee comfortingly.

"Everybody okay?" he asked.

"Amazingly enough, the worst injured just had some bumps and bruises," Jim answered. "All in all though, they were very lucky. And I drove much more carefully the rest of the way here."

Kate reached over to grasp her father's hand, and Castle could tell by her expression that she was expressing her silent gratitude that he was here with them. After a moment of quiet around the table, Martha broke in to relieve the somber tension.

"Well, kids, I say we dig in to this delicious looking meal!"

The conversation flowed easily as they passed the food around and began to eat. That was one of the things that Rick had noticed early on when Jim had begun spending time at the loft. Neither he nor his daughter were put off by the quirks and idiosyncrasies of the Castle-Rodgers clan. They contributed to the laughter, engaging with the other three and of course, with each other.

The Becketts just fit, it seemed to him, quite well into their unconventional little family.

He thought back to a day a couple months ago, before she'd been released from the hospital.

_He'd gone to bring back some lunch and returned to find the door to her room not quite latched. About to step inside, he paused when he heard Jim Beckett's voice drifting through the crack._

"_That boy's going to marry you someday, Katie."_

"_You think so, Dad?" she'd asked, and he thought her voice sounded a little hopeful._

"_I do."_

_He'd stood there a minute longer, his heart pounding so hard it felt like it might burst from his chest. Waiting until they'd moved to a different topic, he'd leaned into the room, knocking on the door frame. She'd given him a thousand megawatt smile when she saw him, and Jim had just watched him as only a father could._

"Hey, you okay?"

Her voice and hand on his thigh pulled him from his thoughts.

"Never better," he said quietly, threading his fingers through hers.

"Where'd you go?" she whispered, her words meant only for his ears as the conversation continued between Jim, Martha, and Alexis.

"Just thinking through a scene," he said with a shrug.

"Nikki and Rook's next adventure?" she asked with a knowing quirk of her eyebrows.

He grinned.

"Something like that."

* * *

><p>Author's note: Can you believe that in thirteen chapters, I've really only covered about twenty-four hours? With this installment, "A Lucky Man" is complete. Is it odd that a story with the word 'luck' in its title would have thirteen chapters? I didn't plan that, really. Thank you all for reading and reviewing. I'll recharge my fluff stores and see if I can't come up with something new before too long.<p> 


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